The Greater Good
by starlabsforever
Summary: Caitlin knows when Cisco isn't okay. She tries to get to the bottom of why and realizes things are worse than she thought, but Caitlin doesn't shy away when things get real. The scene from 3x13 that Caitlin and Cisco deserved.


Ever since they had returned from Earth-2, Cisco had been… off. Caitlin couldn't put her finger on it, but she knew him so well that she almost automatically recognized when something was wrong with him. It was like going in your bedroom after someone moved all the furniture an inch- she couldn't pinpoint it, but it was all wrong. He barely stayed in the same room as her- if she walked into the cortex, he suddenly had to go get something from his workshop. If she confronted him in his workshop, he had to go talk to Barry in the speed lab. He was also uncharacteristically quiet, and he hadn't smiled or cracked a single joke since their return. She left it alone at first- he needed emotional recovery time after their whirlwind, multi-dimensional rescue mission, she reasoned. The elephant in her mind nagged at her- how Cisco had so readily volunteered to sacrifice himself- but if something was wrong, he would tell her. He needed his space, she figured, so she gave it to him.

In retrospect, that was about the worst choice she could have made, she realized as she stood in the doorway of Cisco's workshop, watching him flit around his tool bench like a drunk bumblebee. He had his headphones on, blaring so loudly that she could hear the faint, nasal buzz of the electric guitar on whatever he was listening to, completely oblivious to her presence. She had been thinking about how to comfort herself. She liked to be left alone after emotionally taxing events; Cisco liked, no, needed to be comforted. Which meant that whatever issue had been causing his off behavior had been festering for the last few days. His appearance certainly gave credence to that theory- he'd clearly been working late nights. He had dark circles under his eyes and was wearing yesterday's t-shirt. His hair, dull and limp from conditioner neglect, was tied out of his face in a- wow. Caitlin raised her eyebrows at his hairstyle. He was definitely upset if he had resorted to the _man bun_. She of all people should know that adopting your evil doppelganger's fashion sensibilities was never a good sign.

She hated herself for not noticing this sooner, for not remembering that Cisco needed emotional support the same way she needed personal space. She should have noticed that her best friend was sending bright, red-flashing signals that he was Not Okay, but she'd been too wrapped up in Julian and that stupid, too-expensive, and entirely not platonic steak dinner. Actually, she had a hunch that that was what this was about. Caitlin hadn't mentioned the two dates she'd been on with Julian- three if she counted their coincidental rendezvous at Jitters that morning, but who was counting? -but Cisco was an astute observer, and he would have almost definitely picked up on the so-what-are-we awkwardness between her and Julian. She might be the worst best friend ever, but she needed to talk to Cisco. Her neglect meant that whatever was on his mind had been building the last two days, and now it was about to either calcify or erupt. Time to find out.

Caitlin stepped forward, strategically angling herself in front of the doorway so that he couldn't make a run for it. She waited for him to look up from his work, but he was deeply engrossed in- whatever he was bending over. She watched as his long, flexible fingers twirled around the Phillips head screwdriver he was holding, and her eyes drifted down to his arms. The sleeves of the worn-in t-shirt clung to the biceps that always shocked her with their muscle definition, and they seemed even more defined than usual. Maybe it was just because he was tense.

Clink. The screwdriver slipped from his finger and dropped to the ground. Perfect. He kicked the ground and his office chair swiveled around, and he bent over to pick up the screwdriver. He brought his head up and their eyes locked. Cisco froze, and his fingers clenched around the screwdriver.

"Hey," she said cheerfully, and he didn't respond. She realized he was still wearing his blasphemously loud headphones. And so did he, because he slipped them down onto his neck, still leaking the skull-pounding music through the speakers.

His eyes darted for a second, and then the corners of his mouth stretched into a forced smile. "Hey, you," he said in a tone that was almost eerily cheerful. "You don't knock, do you?"

"The door was open," she levelled. "Besides, I doubt you'd have heard me. You know listening to music that loudly is-"

"-terrible for your ears. Yeah, you've told me, but I gotta stay awake somehow." He held up the yellow screwdriver, which he was holding in a death grip again. "Lotta work to do."

"On what, exactly?" she asked, stepping forward to see what he was working on, but his chair was blocking her view of the workbench. "Things have been pretty slow since we got back from Earth-2. You're the only one who's been pulling all-nighters. I know we have weeks where working yourself to death is necessary, but this isn't one of those."

"Is this your thinly veiled way of checking in on my mental health?" He dropped the screwdriver into his other hand. "Cause I'm okay, Caitlin. I'm just fixing up my Vibe goggles. I'm good."

"Really?" She crossed her arms. "No offense, but you look like crap."

"Stop it, you're making me blush," he deadpanned, and in response to Caitlin's thoroughly unamused expression, "I'll admit I haven't been sleeping all that well since we got back, but I think I'll manage." He started twirling that screwdriver again, like it was a freaking baton. His lips quirked up into a reassuring grin, but paired with the bags under his eyes, his five-o-clock shadow and his messy hair, it just made him look even more manic than he already had.

They were getting nowhere. She didn't have the patience for this. "Cisco, I know you're not okay, and I will keep barraging you with questions until you tell me why, so you might as well come out and tell me right now."

The hyper smile vanished and his expression clouded. "I told you, I'm fine," he said in a voice thirty degrees chillier than before.

"I can tell from your ultra pissed-off facial expression and the visible lack of self-care. Definitely not a cry for help."

"I don't need your help!" He shouted, his voice tight with frustration. His upper body was tense with anger and his face was redder than usual. He seemed aware that he had lost control and sighed deeply. He leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I just- you know, Gorilla City was weird, and I just need a little space, okay?"

Caitlin felt her stomach flip over. This was even worse than she thought. She looked at Cisco again, and where she had previously seen her best friend who was avoiding her because of- because of what? What had she been so worried about anyway? -she now saw something far more concerning. Sadness lining his eyes, self-doubt creasing his forehead. Apathy veiling his deep brown eyes. _You stupid idiot. All you could think about was why Cisco might be mad at you. You didn't even think about-_

"Cisco," she said abruptly, desperately trying to stop her mind from spiraling down this train of thought before she confirmed it. He raised his eyebrows. "If I ask you a question- just one question, can you promise to answer me honestly?"

He pursed his lips, considering, and then shrugged. "What the hell. What's the question?"

She swallowed hard. "When we were in the cages, and we were discussing strategy, and you suggested that _idiotic_ plan-"

"I didn't think an insult was included under the umbrella of 'one question'."

"Please don't interrupt me," she said hotly, and his gaze dropped to the ground with a short nod. She stepped forward, no longer concerned about blocking the doorway, and leaned against his workbench, towering over his sitting form in her heels.

He raised his eyebrows in an exaggeratedly quizzical expression, but his eyes were wary. "You're making me nervous."

"Cisco." She locked eyes with him and held his gaze. "Did you- did you want to die?"

His eyes widened and his brow crinkled, and she expected his whole face to crumple up, but it didn't. She waited for him to say something, anything, but he didn't have to- his stricken face said everything that needed to be said.

Caitlin's face heated up and her legs suddenly felt weak. "Oh, _Cisco_ ," she breathed, and that did it. His face crumpled and he slumped forward, sinking his head into his hands. She moved forward instinctively and placed her hand gently on his back, which was trembling. It was all she could do to keep her own hand steady.

There was a long, heavy silence, and then he spoke in a low, hoarse voice. "It's not that I wanted to die so much as… it made sense."

The callousness of his words surprised her and she drew her hand back, feeling as if she'd been stung. "What is that supposed to mean, 'it made sense'?" She snapped.

He lifted his head up, and his eyes were tinged pink at the corners. "We have to make sacrifices sometimes. It's the life that we live. Barry's made sacrifices, you have, and I've made so damn many that it didn't seem like that much of a stretch to go all in." He rushed over his words clumsily, like he'd been thinking them for a long time but he was afraid to say them out loud. He reached up and grasped at his own hair too tightly, his restless fingers ripping through his curls like he just had to be moving. "I've lost so much to this damn superhero life and yeah, we live in a comic book but it _sucks_ because we lose everything." His voice cracked and there was an unmistakable bitterness in his tone. "We press on and we keep our heads up, but I can only take so much, and I don't think I can take another body blow, Caitlin." He was staring forward now, his eyes crossed with pain and resigned bitterness. "I just figured, if I'm gonna go, why not do it in a blaze of glory?"

She waited for him to go on, and she felt like she could cry, seeing him so unrecognizably broken. When he didn't speak, just stared at his hands, she swallowed hard. "I didn't know you felt that way. I wish you had told me, or-" She stopped herself just short of saying Barry. "-or someone."

He laughed, a short, hard, resentful bark. "Because you don't have enough to deal with as it is."

Caitlin felt indignance tinged by anger growing in her chest. "Do you really think we're that self-centered? That we wouldn't help you just because we have our own issues?"

"No, I didn't want to burden you," he said, and his resigned tone sent a wave of guilt crashing over her. "Like I said. We've all made sacrifices, and mine were hardly the worst." His eyes met hers, with some mixture of sadness and affection. "You've lost more than I have."

"Misery is not a contest," Caitlin said shortly. "Your grief doesn't weigh any less than mine. My losses aren't worth any more than yours."

"I know that," he said irritably. "I'm just so sick of-" He waved his hand around, gesturing. "This. Heart-to-hearts about our miserable lives and then trying to smooth it over with optimism. I try harder than anyone to look on the bright side, because if I don't-" He stopped abruptly and ran his hands down the side of his face. "We've only been doing this for three years, not even that, and look how messed up we are. All of us. How much longer can we do this for?" He swallowed, and his eyes were glistening with unspilled tears. "And what kind of screwed-up people are we going to be when we're done?"

His eyes were lit up with miserable defiance, and he was obviously waiting for her to counteract his blunt despondence with optimism, comfort, defiance, something, but all she could think about was the pain and hurt in his eyes, and her face was hot again.

He had gone through so much crap he didn't deserve. She had gone through so much crap she didn't deserve. And here they were, pushed to the edge, drowning in this abyss of pain and grief that was collateral damage to Barry's greater good.

Cisco was right. Their lives were awful.

She swallowed, unable to speak. Cisco stood up abruptly and leaned against the bench, gripping the edge of the table with his hands.

"I didn't think that it was actually going to work, you know. That you guys would actually let me do it. It was too easy of an out, that I could go down a hero and know that you would all be safe. I knew you wouldn't let me. So maybe I didn't really mean it."

"I think you did," she whispered, and the words felt like sandpaper against her raw throat. "That's why you didn't tell me. Because you did mean it."

Cisco didn't move. His grip fastened on the table's edge, and she saw the muscles in his arms lock, like stone under his skin.

"I understand how you feel. You're tired of being tired." His head lifted slightly, but he was still facing away. She inhaled, forcing herself to go on. "I know you are, I can see it, and I'm sorry if I haven't been there for you enough. I struggle keeping my head above water too, because you're right. This sucks." She saw his shoulder relax for a moment, and then they tensed up again. "I don't know what to tell you. There's nothing I can say that would be both comforting and true." She took a deep breath, but when she exhaled, all of her strength left her in a big whoosh, like she'd been punched in the stomach. Her voice broke and her chest ached. "All I can say is don't you dare leave me, because I could never forgive you."

For a moment, he didn't move, and it was dead silent. Then he whirled around so quickly that he nearly hit her in the face, and he threw his arms over her shoulders and pulled her to him with crushing force. She weaved her arms through his, her left arm around his shoulders and her right arm wrapped against his waist. His right arm was against her shoulders, pressing her against his body, and she felt him turn his face into her hair. She moved her hand and stroked her fingers through his hair, and just held him. Then she felt his chest shaking slightly against hers, and all of the pain and worry she had been repressing for the last few days slammed into her like a concrete anvil. She tightened her grasp on him to stay upright, and he squeezed back in turn. He was holding her too tightly, and the pressure against her ribcage hurt, but she was afraid that if either of them let go, they would both fall apart.

Time passed, and they stood like that- dead still, save for the trembling of his chest that made her want to cry, too. She look a long, deep, breath, and twisted away from him slightly. He relieved some of the pressure on her body, but not enough that she could move freely.

"Cait," he whispered, and the way he said her name, it sounded like a prayer.

She sniffed loudly to clear the hot, teary lump in her throat. "I don't want to let go either, but breathing is getting difficult, and we can't stand here all day."

"Sure we can," he said in a low, husky voice, but let go. They pulled apart and she stepped back, dropping her arms to her sides. His damp, pained brown eyes met hers, and the grief and burden reflected in them transcended his age. Usually he looked very young to her, with his round face and long, wavy hair, but now his face was lined with weariness. His shoulders slumped, as if he were carrying the weight of the world. In some ways, he was.

Not world. Ha. _Worlds._ She almost laughed at that.

"You okay?" she asked, although she already knew it was the stupidest question in the world. He shook his head, and his eyes looked far away. She picked up his hand and covered it with both of hers and squeezed.

"I promise," he said abruptly.

She sniffed again and then coughed against her sleeve to clear her throat. "You promise what?"

"I'll never leave you," he said softly, and the sincerity in his voice made her throat seize up dangerously. "I mean, I can't promise that definitively. I'm not immortal." He sniffed, too, and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. His eyes darted up and locked with hers. He swallowed. "And I can't promise that I won't want to sometimes. Sometimes I just feel like…. like I'm dying."

"I know that," she murmured. "Trust me, I know. Sometimes there's nothing anyone can do to make it feel better. Just promise me that when you feel like that, you'll find a different way. Promise me you'll never let that be the only way."

"How?" he croaked, and he still sounded broken.

She interpreted his question as bluntly as possible. "There's lots of- you could go to therapy, you should be, there are things you can do, there's medicine that-"

He cut her off. "I know, Cait. I go to grief group, remember? I'm on anti-depressants. You know that. But sometimes it's just not enough."

She locked her gaze with his, trying to think of something to say, _anything_ , but none of the words felt right.

"Where there's life, there's hope," she said softly. She took his hand, with hers, and pressed it against his chest. He looked down at it, and then at her, questioningly. "It's still beating. As long as that's still going, you have the upper hand on all of this crap. And that power is never worth giving up, ever. Trust me, I've been tempted to."

He swallowed, and she could see his Adam's apple bobbing as he bit back all of the pain that he was still feeling. His other hand landed on top of hers, pressing down, heavy and warm. She found herself inching forward and they were so close that she could see the tears still on the end of his nose, smell the salt in his breath.

"I'm glad you didn't," he whispered.

She threw her arms around his shoulders again, and as she pulled her to him, she felt his lips, warm and soft, against her forehead, but only for a second. All of her nerve endings tingled and she felt her face flush as she felt his body so close to hers. She could smell the sweat, mingled with a metallic scent, on his skin. She could feel wayward strands of his hair dancing with static electricity and tickling her neck. She could hear his short, shallow breaths in his ear and the vein in his arm throbbing under her fingertips. She felt his hands, one on her back and one grasping her arm.

She leaned her head against his and held him tighter, as if she could hold the broken pieces of him together. "Don't you ever," she whispered again. "Don't you dare." She paused, not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. "Or I'll kill you."


End file.
